


Stolen Moments (Drabbles)

by EstherRuth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cousin Incest, Drabble Collection, F/M, Forbidden Love, Half-Sibling Incest, Jon Snow and Sansa Stark Are Not Related, Romance, Trying to cover my bases here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26183839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EstherRuth/pseuds/EstherRuth
Summary: A collection of short Jonsa one-shots/drabbles in a variety of settings/aus.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 64





	1. Canon AU: Wars

**Author's Note:**

> Probably a Rhaegar wins au, but I like to leave this open to interpretation <3.

They embraced in a darkened corner, the empty corridor providing their small means of escape as the sounds of the feast faded into the distance. Such was the way of secret lovers.

Jon kissed her hotly, pressing her body into the wall against his own. “And would you have the realm go to war over us, love?” he hissed into her skin, layering kisses along her jaw and neck.

Sansa gripped him close, pulling his face up to hers, eyes locking hypnotically to his own. “I’m afraid I would,” she said without apology. Her thumb danced along his bottom lip before he pulled it into his mouth and sucked. “I find that I am quite selfish, my prince,” Sansa said hoarsely.

Jon’s hands squeezed her bottom and lifted her up in his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist. “I find myself much the same, my lady,” he growled against her lips.


	2. Bound Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Sansa POV of the reunion hug. (Sequel from Jon's POV goes au, but this one is canon compliant).

How could they not hold onto each other? Sansa thought. Jon’s body was strong, warm and gentle. She leaned into him, resting her head at the crook of his neck and grappling onto his shoulders for dear life. Jon had lifted her off her feet and was gently rocking them back and forth in the middle of the courtyard. Once she’d seen him, it was like a dream too sweet to exist. It wasn’t real until she was in his arms. Sansa knew it was the same for him. Eventually, Jon would release her back to her feet, find dry clothes and put her in front of the hearth in his chambers. But it is this touch memory, the feeling of Jon holding her and she holding him—the solidity of it, the warmth and safety—that will stay with her; that would explain how they began again.


	3. Bound Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of part 1.

Jon cannot breathe when her eyes first meet his. He draws back for a moment in shock, and it takes another before he can move. As Jon heads down the steps toward her, he’s still not sure that he’s breathing. He cannot take his eyes off her—he fears she may disappear if he looks away for even a second. She is so beautiful, Jon thinks. He is in too much of a dream state to worry over such thoughts about his sister. He stands before her and then they are colliding, reaching for each other as he takes her in his arms and she clings to him for dear life.

_Sansa._

What has happened that he should be gifted thus? Jon has just come back from the dead. Yet, Sansa here with him—real and in his arms safe—she feels much more like a miracle than his resurrection. He wonders somewhere in the back of his mind if he’s ever really felt _anything_ before because now he’s feeling so intensely. It is unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

He gets her warm and in fresh clothes, and she’s sitting with him in front of the fire sipping her soup. Jon finds that he cannot look away from her. She is so beautiful, he thinks again. She is a piece of home. She is the beating of his heart. She is his family, his sister…his. Just his. He cannot describe it, only feels it in his bones. He is overwhelmed by it—her proximity, her very existence in the same space as his own, she fills all of his senses until there is nothing but Sansa.

Jon moves closer. He needs to touch her. Needs to feel her and join them together somehow. To affirm their reunion in some primal way he cannot put into words.

He would tie himself to her and vice versa. So that they would never be parted. Sansa is trying to tell him something, trying to make amends for some past wrong she’s imagined she had done to him. But Jon can hardly follow her words, so taken is he with the vision of her in front of him, beside him. He doesn’t recall her mistreating him, not really—though some of his memories are foggy since his return. But he remembers her.

Red hair. Blue eyes. Radiant smile.

He remembers enough to tell her she does not need forgiveness but acquiesces as she insists, if only to coax another one of those smiles which light up her face. He puts an arm around her and breathes her in, a scent of snow and the soap from the bath he’d had drawn for her earlier. She nuzzles into him as he holds her close and it makes him smile. Sansa is wearing his cloak, and it brings him a peculiar sense of satisfaction: Jon thinks they are melding their scents together as he noses her temple, and it seems the most important thing to him.

Perhaps it is because of how long he spent in Ghost, he thinks. This instinct to bond them together. Pack. Alpha. Her alpha. The Master and his lady. His lady.

_Sansa._

He kisses the crown of her head, her temple, her cheek and along her jaw as her breath quickens. Sansa’s fingers dig into Jon’s leather jerkin and his arm tightens around her shoulder, pulling her closer. And then he is kissing her lips and she is kissing back.

They don’t need words. Only hands, lips, tongues, bodies which crash into each other—fusing them together.

There is no thought, only action. No consideration of titles like brother and sister. Their family had been broken and decimated, they were two strewn pieces of debris that made themselves back to each other. It is a requiem for the past. A celebration of their future. Their bond of blood and memory may remain, but they are newly formed creatures, burrowing into one another to create something stronger than what they had been before.

And when he buries himself inside her, their eyes locking when their panting breaths join together, as words of love are muttered into each other’s mouths, when they drink each other’s moans, sinking into each other’s skin and bones, it is a union that strips away all else. They are made anew. They will build their own pack.

And nothing may ever tear them asunder.


	4. Modern AU: Reunion

When Jon tells Sansa to move into the spare bedroom in his apartment when she transfers to White Harbor University, Jon doesn’t think much of it at first. Sam had moved in with Gilly after the two married. Jon was short a roommate, and Sansa already had a job lined up with a fashion designer that coincided with her design classes, and together they could make rent instead of Jon finding a new place. Plus, she was a twenty-one-year-old woman in a new city, their dad would kill him if he didn’t look after her. It was also walking distance from campus, and though Jon didn’t grow up with any of his siblings, exactly—more that he’d see them every few years on holidays and otherwise catch up on social media—he does know enough of Sansa that he figures she’ll be a neat and considerate roommate, unless time has changed her greatly. It’s after he goes to meet her at the airport that it truly sinks in just how long it’s been.

Sansa’s wearing a flowery sundress that ends just above the knees, showcasing her long legs that seem to go on for miles. Her copper hair whips about in the light wind. Her black sunglasses cover enough of her face that he gets a view of her well before he actually recognizes her.

And before he does recognize her, Jon traces her from head to toe appreciatively. He imagines pulling the dress’s straps from her lovely sloped shoulders, and wonders what those legs of hers would feel like wrapped around his waist as he fucked her. Jon tries not to ogle women so overtly, but it’s been awhile since he’s gotten laid and what’s more, this woman checks all his boxes. Then her lips start to curl in a familiar way as she moves in his direction and the rest could be happening in slow motion as Sansa pushes her sunglasses up on her head.

“Hey Jon!” she greets brightly, throwing one arm around his neck to hug him, oblivious to the horror Jon is experiencing as he realizes he just thoroughly eye-fucked his own sister.

“Hey Sansa,” Jon says, trying to match the levity in her voice but he can hear his own strain. He lightly hugs her back a second longer than is probably necessary.

She steps back to take a look at him. “Oh my God, it’s been too long. Look at you! All grown up!” Sansa remarks with a laugh.

_Look at me? No. Look at you! Holy shit._

“Yeah, you too,” he says awkwardly, gesturing in her direction. Sansa just gives him another laugh and it does something to his stomach it absolutely should not be doing to him.

“I’ve still got to get some of my luggage,” she says, tugging on his arm and walking past him to the baggage claim. His eyes immediately go to her ass and the sashay of her hips in the flowy dress before he even has a chance to tell himself not to look. What the hell was wrong with him? Recognizing her as his sister should have been enough to get his head on straight, shouldn’t it? But Jon finds himself following her like a bit of a lovesick puppy, barely restraining from going slack jawed and drooling. What was his father going to kill him for again? Oh, yeah, not looking after her. Well, he _is_ looking. That might not be so great either.

Maybe having Sansa live with him wasn’t a good idea after all. But it was too late now. He was going to have to find a way to live with his extraordinarily hot half-sister. _Fuck._


	5. Canon AU: Letter to My Lady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My fic Changes... is going to take a little longer to update this time, but I thought I'd share this little thing. Completely saccharine (imo) self-indulgent baby Jonsa fluff.

Dear Lady Sansa,

I write to you to send the best wishes and congratulations for your nameday—my father says you will be eight. Four moons ago I had my tenth nameday and so am almost a man grown. As such, my father the King has given me leave to begin writing with you until we may meet again. I know your parents have also discussed with you our betrothal and future marriage. I hope that we will be able to learn more about each other through letters, and I am most eager to read your words.

You likely do not remember but we did meet once—when my father and I visited Winterfell and I was but four namedays old. I remember that even at two you were a perfect lady, curtsying before me and I kissed your hand like a proper knight. You were beautiful and sweet, and I am sure you will only grow more so.

To tell you a little more about me: my name is Jaehaerys but I prefer to be called Jon, so I hope that is okay with you. I take lessons with my brother Aegon on how to be a prince and lord. One day Aegon will be King and I will inherit Dragonstone, with you as my Lady. I do well in sums but I must admit I struggle in geography. I like training with our blunt swords and our master at arms, Ser Arthur Dayne.

I pledge to you now, Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell, to always protect, honor, and cherish you. I want you to know I want more than anything to be a good husband to you. Even though I am not a man quite yet and I don’t know much about being a husband, I believe we can make each other happy. I hope that you feel the same and may write back to me, with your parents’ blessing. It may be some time yet before we see each other again, but know that you are always in my thoughts.

Yours,

Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No I couldn't resist the geography thing. I've thought about turning this into a multichapter epistolary fic or series but I'm hoping it works as a stand-alone!


End file.
